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bridge over


dr_con

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bridge over

 

He was practicing invisibility

morning after

a rock solid bad luck night

reflecting time

 

But I was dropping illusion

parking-lot shortcut

cheap tobacco Sunday

elections protections

 

I smile at his hunch- Smoking

in the shadows

between garbage dumpsters

and he glares

 

My tobacconist chats about paranoia

as I leave

Shade penetrates my spine neck hat

a once over

 

Despite the message I walk scared

Sun after rain

Kills my story leaving only the shine

puddle reflections

 

The cracks everywhere whisper

old stories

Trees and vines glisten Fall full

living now

 

A city re-enchanted

always there

only this forgetting

hides home.

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Hi DC,

 

This is a much tighter write, quite different from your wonderfully sonorous flow of thoughts, images and allusions. You still manage to pack quite a lot in this poem.

 

I love the character sketches - the narrator, the tobacconist, and the other person smoking in shadow between the garbage dumpsters. Your evocation of the urban landscape is similarly achieved with some deft details:

 

parking-lot,

 

garbage dumpsters

 

tobacconist

 

 

And then juxtaposed to this are descriptions of the season and nature:

 

Trees and vines glisten Fall full

living now

 

These details, so concise are quite brilliant:

 

Sun after rain

 

puddle reflections

 

The city and the narrator's surroundings are alive and buzzing. Life goes on, as it were. In the midst of all this the narrator is caught in a reflective mood and moment:

 

A city re-enchanted

always there

only this forgetting

hides home.

 

What is this disquiet? Is it the season - Fall or the encounters the narrator has had or nature in all its elements - rain, sun - and the trees and vines (one imagines the turning of colors) that has triggered it? George Steiner, the literary critic and thinker said, "When the word of the poet ceases, a new thought begins ..."

 

 

Your poem does this very well. :D

 

 

Thank you.

goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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George Steiner, the literary critic and thinker said, "When the word of the poet ceases, a new thought begins ..."

 

 

Your poem does this very well. :D

 

 

Thank you.

 

 

thats a brilliant notion to add to my read of this fascinating city-work of DrC's

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This is like looking in your organizer on Sunday morning and seeing "free time." I love how the Sun after rain/Kills my story leaving only the shine/puddle reflections. It's perfect, Juris. Don't change a thing.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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You have a fab collection of first lines Dr C.!

 

The individual in the poem seems overwhelmed by awareness, but then connects beyond the immediate and individual circumstance.

 

I agree with gl about this leaner style, which I find more communicative.

 

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Golden- I love your astute analysis and am flattered you used George Steiner as a reference to me- :icon_redface:

Rumi, as always, thanks for dropping in...

Tony, I'm glad it worked for you...

Badge- Many thanks I'm glad it worked for you! And often I sit down with only the first line as my guide...

 

Many Thanks All!

 

DC&J

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Hi Dr_Con,

 

This is very much to my liking, it is more image-focused, less abstract but is also as meaningful as your others. There are many good lines, such as "shade penetrates..." instead of "light penetrates". Your title is also a good one, making me think the connection of the things... illusion and reality...

 

In a hurry.

 

Will be back to read in more detail.

 

Lake

Edited by Lake
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